<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Demons by jencsi</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29065035">Demons</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jencsi/pseuds/jencsi'>jencsi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>CSI: Crime Scene Investigation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:42:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29065035</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jencsi/pseuds/jencsi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I both know and don't know where this sprung from. It's essentially Finn and Nick but could also apply to literally anyone from any fandom.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julie "Finn" Finlay/Nick Stokes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Demons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There’s a demon at the foot of the bed. It’s been watching her sleep, leering, dominating. It slithers to her side of the bed and hisses in her ear. It smirks when she tries to brush it away, her hand passing across her face. The demon taunts her, sweeping across her face with its shadowy hand that pokes and prods, scratches her neck, hisses again, blows hot air across her face and her forehead. She whimpers now, aware of its presence, shaking her head to the side, flipping her entire body from her left to her right side, it’s in her nature to fight but in her dazed state, she’s weaker. </p><p>It has her attention now. Her eyes move beneath her lids, a panicked REM sleep. It leans down over her, hissing again, this time it’s gnarly mouth forms words as it speaks fully “not safe” a warning, a taunt. Her shoulder jerks involuntarily in her sleep. The demon grins wickedly, there’s no stopping him. </p><p>Not for you; it hisses again and her brain struggles to comprehend the message. Her fingers curl up around the hem of the blankets, locked in a tight grip, joints aching from the position she’s forced to lay in. </p><p>Any second now; the demon hisses and she twitches under the blankets, leg kicking out at the invisible force on top of her but she misses and it laughs. </p><p>Stop. She whines. The demon whines back, mimicking her strangled cries. It takes one gangly finger and traces down the side of her neck again. She shivers and twitches. One finger becomes two, then three, then ten. The monstrosity teases with touch and words, luring her into a frenzied state. She grabs at the shadowy hand trying to claw at it, to make it stop. </p><p>He’s going. It hisses once more and she cries out louder but muffled by the demon's powers. Say goodbye. </p><p>I won’t. She yelps, her voice cracking with emotions. The demons twisted mangled fingers keep teasing against her neck, scribbling, scratching, antagonizing. They slip down to her shoulder and caress it in a different way; one she’s used to from him and that lures her into a false sense of security. She calls for him but the demon replies; he’s gone. </p><p>No she screams at it, tearing the inside of her throat, forcefully pushing the demon, her hands sinking into its dark shadowy chest cavity, plunging deeper into its body, falling, surrounded by darkness. The demons hisses turn into laughter, manically, deep. She pushes and punches at the darkness, searching for contact to make, to let her know she’s beating it but nothing comes. She feels the demon's shadow envelop her now; hissing in both ears, scratching both sides of her neck, encapsulating her with hot air on her forehead. </p><p>Enough. Someone yells. She jerks awake, breathless, whimpering, hot tears in her eyes and down her cheeks. A dim light breaks her subconscious and her eyes see blurry outlines of the bedroom, the dresser, the chair, clothes, books, wall decor. When she sits up, nearly launching out of the bed, she feels her shirt stick to her back, her body drenched in sweat, heart racing. </p><p>It’s over. He calms her, touching her burning hot forehead with his hand as he sweeps her matted hair out of her eyes. She clutches blankets to her chest, her brain reorganizing her surroundings as she adjusts. Delirious. </p><p>Monster. She informs him. Whimpering. Warning. Only to hear the much calmer, reassuring, it’s gone. She nods and leans sideways against his study frame. He enveloped her in his embrace, squeezing her shoulder, softly whispering on her forehead; it’s ok. She aches to sleep again but fears another attack. She raises her hand and shakily touches the side of her neck, fearing real scratches are present. He shifts her, peering at her skin finding no such wounds. Eased, he guides her back to laying down, one hand on her stomach, patting there gently as she settles back against the warm mattress and pillow. </p><p>So real. She utters and he nods, having been there himself, felt the same prickles of fear, the same scratches on his neck, the same pokes and prods on his skin, hot air, green lights, darkness, panic. She regains control of her breathing but still feels vulnerable. She can’t take her hand away from her neck, that sensation of scratching so raw and real to her still. He takes matters into his own hands figuratively and literally, gently prying her hand away from her neck, leaning in, pressing a kiss there, feeling her body tense up at the first contact. But another kiss, three, four, five, she keeps count, he smiles against her skin, replacing the agony with softness. Her hand drops down on the mattress as she goes weak, lulled back into slumber before he can finish counting to ten.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>